


Rivals - Valentine's Day

by crieshavoc



Series: Rivals [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fluff, Grad School AU, cophine - Freeform, non clone verse, rivals verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 20:03:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6022945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crieshavoc/pseuds/crieshavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Delphine is used to coming in first in her class. She's never had such strong competition before, let alone from someone like Cosima who seems her opposite in nearly every way. Cosima is bright and cheery; a prankster and a brat; messy and loud; an unapologetic flirt and not above using her sexuality to her advantage. (Okay, maybe they have that last bit in common.) Second person POV following Delphine through her first year at Minnesota as she falls behind academically, falls apart emotionally, and falls in love irreparably with Cosima.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rivals - Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Anon prompt on tumblr: "typical hate but eventually love AU" trope. In this first short trip into the Rivals 'verse, we meet up with Delphine on Valentine's Day, by which time she has stopped pretending. Most of the 'verse will be before this one chronologically, with much self-deception and bickering. Scene suggestions are encouraged.

**“Rivals – Valentine’s Day”**

 

You aren’t in grad school to make friends. You know this is cliché, not to mention a pathetic distraction from how lonely you are, but it is ultimately true. You came here, across an ocean and half a continent besides, to the middle of nowhere America, to be a better scientist. That’s all. It is, but Minnesota is cold and bleak, and as good as you are at pushing aside your emotions (and, at times, your morals) in favor of advancing your career… spending Valentine’s Day fending off men less evolved than the contents of a petri dish is still depressing. You aren’t even sure why you decided to go out tonight, of all nights, when you knew every bar and club would be full of couples and people desperately looking not to spend the evening alone.

Heaving a dramatic sigh and rolling your eyes in surrender, you turn back to your drink, hoping your latest hanger on will take a hint soon. Your patience with him is wearing thin very quickly and you are too tired to be polite. You know exactly why you are here. What you don’t know is when you decided to stop faking indifference, to let the pretentious animosity of being “rivals” fall away. _She isn’t even here,_ you think despondently. _Surely she has someone lined up for tonight, a frequent-enough fuck buddy who won’t make more of it than weed and pizza and good sex_. You rub at the bridge of your nose, more annoyed with yourself by the minute. It shouldn’t bother you. Perhaps you and Cosima have reached a plateau of being friendly rivals, rather than pretending to be loathsome enemies, but that it different from being jealous of her extensive network of lovers.

Just then the idiot sitting next to you leans over, his mouth open with some new asinine come on, and warm hands decend on your shoulders. You nearly choke on your own spit as she speaks into your ear, voice still somehow low and husky despite the necessity of shouting over the bass line.

“Need me to pretend to be your girlfriend again?” Cosima asks, a smile evident in her words.

You bite your lip, hard. _I could just say yes_. You wait for her to slide onto the stool to your left and glance down the generous neckline of her dress. “I don’t think he would find it much of a deterrent.”

She grimaces and squeezes her hand on your thigh. “Gross.”

You nod absentminded agreement. Her hand is on your leg, on your skin. Wearing the shortest skirt you own is suddenly worth the unwanted attention you’ve suffered for the past two hours waiting, hoping, to see her.

“So, what are you doing here? I didn’t expect you see you out on Valentine’s.” Cosima hails one of the bartenders and orders herself a glass of red wine, pointing to your glass for a refill as well. Pointing, that is, with her free hand. The one not currently burning a hole in your leg.

“I could ask you the same,” you remember to say. Yes, of course you practiced. In a span of six months this ridiculously infuriating woman has somehow retrieved your heart from the black hole you threw it into as a child and now you are stuck in her orbit, fighting uselessly against the gravity of your desire. You blink slowly, trying to remember how much wine you’ve had. You aren’t usually quite so hyperbolic, even in your own mind. _Merde_ , the things she does to you.

Cosima hasn’t answered you. She sips heartily from her glass and her fingers curl slightly against your skin. “Plans fell through,” she tells you.

You sense there is more to the story. You can read her so much better each day. She’s uncomfortable, but not upset. Nervous, maybe. “Are you okay?” You lean into her space, instinctively shifting your leg to force her hand higher.

She turns to face you and her eyes don’t quite make it up to meet yours.

The familiarity of her being lust-struck around you steals your breath for a few seconds. You grin and lean even closer. “Cosima?”

She glares at you and starts to pull away, “Don’t be a jerk, Del.”

You trap her hand with yours, pressing her fingers and her palm against your thigh. “I’m not.”

Cosima’s eyes narrow suspiciously, but she is still.

Tilting your head and allowing your hair to fall over your shoulder, you decide not to dwell on mercifully having found your lost courage around her, and choose instead to simply run with it. “Why have you always found the thought of me wanting you so preposterous?”

She’s blushing. She is blushing and, _oh_ , how good it feels to flip the tables back.

“Do you?” Cosima looks you right in the eye this time.

You feel your confidence deflate again. It was nice while it lasted. “Yes,” you squeak out, feeling flush now yourself, and drop your gaze to your hands. Yours and hers, still on your leg.

Her fingers squeeze again, slowly and with intention.

“Okay.” She is smiling when you look up again.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Cosima’s smile goes lopsided in the way that has always made you want to kiss her, “I’ve been crazy about you since day one, so that’s super okay with me.”

 _Since day one?_ You reach for your wine, stalling as you try to absorb that confession. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

She laughs and turns her hand palm up, twisting her fingers with yours. “Uh, you kind of hated me back then, remember?”

You roll your eyes and tut, “I didn’t hate you, Cosima. We’ve had that discussion.”

“I know, I know,” she jumps in immediately, “I do know that now. I didn’t in September though.”

You meet her eyes again and for a few seconds you simply smile at each other. “But you do now,” you repeat, raising an eyebrow at her. “I don’t recall patience being one of your strong suits, _cherie_. Why are we still sitting here?”

“Good question.”

No, you are not here to make friends, let alone to fall in love with the sole person standing between you and the top spot in your program; neither course of action was part of your plan for this year. As they say here in America, however, life is what happens when you are busy making plans.


End file.
